Sunday, 29 August 2010

The main event passed and tranquility has returned to WETF HQ for a few months.

Odd Job went off for a short holiday and came back sick but the CEO has had him on light duties since he was able. These are very light due to his hurt arm and the drugs he has to take which prevent him doing anything complicated jobs or driving. Thus he spends a lot of time ensconced in his office, workshop or other secluded place examining the back of his eye lids as he has a Doctors note that says this is OK. The CEO is not a happy bunny but puts up with it.

For the last few weeks she has had him clearing a space behind the green house, at the rear of the wood. This had been used by her to raise seedlings and bring on plants but Odd Job had redesigned the fencing and the chickens had got in, destroying months of work in just a day or so. Odd Job is ordered to make and erect a fence with a gate, which he completes in record time, for him, in just over 3 weeks.

When I say erected a fence and made a gate, I mean he dragged a pre-made piece of 4x2timber frame which is 12 feet by 4 and has galvanised wire across it, which he had been saving for some reason, down to the gap between the shed and the wood. There he propped it up and tied it to a tree. He then constructed, over several days, a swinging gate made from off cuts of mahogany banister rail he had laying around.

By cunning design (he says) the gate is positioned in such a way that it swings shut automatically when released. The CEO is not convinced and believes it may be the fact that the 4x2 "fence" is leaning slightly off centre that causes this effect.

Anyway, he's happy with a job well done and the area is now chicken free.

Odd Job gets to work clearing the area (again) and tidying up (again) so that the CEO can do what she does best. She had grown most of the trees in the fruit and nut orchard, also the "Ashley" hedge.

The end of the garden is some way off and the wireless phone doesn't reach down there so, Odd Job takes with him a radio in order that the CEO can reach without haven't to hunt all the site or through the wood to find him. This has a range of about a mile so he is also findable when he goes walkabout around the village. He is beaten if he fails to take it with him, or doesnt answer the radio.

The CEO goes out and examines the nut trees that had been coming along nicely with a good crop of nuts........not a one is left.

Odd Job appears later in the canteen smiling, whistling badly, something that resembles a classic tune. The CEO pleased to see him happy for once, listens and, playing the "I'll name that tune game" tries to make it out. "It is by Tchaikovsky, aaaaaaaaand. Its the Nutcracker suite?""No, Its about chocolate, isnt it?"

As she chases him out, threatening him with a fly swatter, she thinks "Fruit and nutcase, how apt"

We finish tonight with two clips and a reminder to watch the Michael Ball Show at 3pm on Bank Holiday Monday. Joel Hicks, target for egg throwing, is on in his other role as World Gravey Wrestling Champ.

Sunday, 27 June 2010

The World Egg Throwing FederationWorld Egg Throwing Championships.27th June 2010

Despite an expected low turnout due to another less prestigious event (and subsequently less successful) there was standing room only around the WETF temp HQ by a demonstration Shelterbox tent at Swaton today.

It estimated that 1000’s attended and over 300 contestants took part in total in the Egg throwing disciplines being practiced.

Throw and catch. 2 person event.A requirement for one of the two time winners to attend due to work meant that the game was wide open. High hopes of an exciting game caused by the attendance of a pair Australians were soon dashed when they fell at the first line. Similar tragedy struck many other who sought to blame the high temperatures (27 degrees C) on the failure to catch. The final was to be decided after a heat throw only reaching 20 metres. The failure of the heats to reach exciting distances was made even more interesting when a pair of 12 year old Darragh Hardy and Damian Wellington in the under 13s event managed 25 metres. They were immediate posted into the adult final to add some decent competition to lack lustre performance of the “big people”. They repeated them throwing and beat off the opposition again with a catch at 25 metres. Well done boys. Adults………… you must try harder. We were expecting at least 60 metres.

Target Throwing. Over 50 persons attempted to strike the target dressed as a German Officer. Standing 24 feet away, points were as follows face, nil. Arms and legs 1. Body 2. Groin 3. Using well aimed shot this was won by a double shot to the unprotected area causing massive pain. Our winner is Michael Benltly.

Egg static relay. A pair of scratch team managed a dead heat with 7 eggs surviving the 100 metre toss. A repeat of the race drew an eventual winner but only 4 eggs surviving in 28 seconds.

Egg Trebuchet. 9 teams entered. Dutch team failed to make more than 5 metres despite the effort of 5 scientists. At 50 metres the numbers were reduced to include only the 3 best efforts. Surprisingly the favourites “Proper Job” and Team Emu failed to qualify. Those successful making through were Team Grantham with a trebuchet made mostly from scrap timber and a pallet, Team Swaton using a trebuchet of doubtful origin and the Latvian Welders. The Latvians did not do well in the early rounds but managed to pull it back to scrape through. At 60 metres the high lobs defeated the lesser catchers and the Latvian won with 1 catch, 1 touch to gain 4 points.

Russian Egg Roulette. Early games passed without to much incident with the favourites going through by use of their skill in determining raw from cooked eggs. Early fallers were not unexpected, however creeping up through the heats, almost unnoticed came Tom Paddon of Sleaford (12 yrs), gaining massive support in the final. It went to the final egg. Up against previous 2008 winner Opal Upton Brooker of Grantham it was a game that everyone knew she would win. Tom clearly though knew his eggs and managed to detect the faint odour of raw egg in orders to avoid the unlucky strike. We welcome Tom to our hall of fame.

During the day the WETF and Swaton Vintage Day were entertained by various top class musicians including Arryn Neytiri and the most excellent Sleaford Ukulele Orchestra. We hope to report that we will have several 1000’s of pounds were raised for causes such as Shelterbox, Leukaemia Research, LIVES, Air Ambulance and The Red Cross.

Friday, 11 June 2010

Held, unless stated otherwise, in the side ring or Egg headquarters. Finals in main ring.

World Target Throwing with Accuracy Challenge takes place in the area adjacent to the bar whilst the target, Joel Hicks, is available. This is the only pay to enter game and is priced at £2 for 3 eggs. Points as follows: Head shot = Nil pointsArms/legs = 1 pointBody = 2 pointsGroin = 3 points

1100 RegistrationSpace is limited for some events, please make sure you pre-book.

1200 The World Egg Trebuchet challenge. Gravity powered eggcitement. Starting close but getting further. 3 preliminary close quarter rounds to find the best, then long distance knock out.

1300 The World Russian Egg Roulette championship One against one, 6 eggs but only 1 is raw. A trial of nerves. Preliminary heats.Held in front of Egg HQ and carries on through the afternoon.

1430 The World Egg Throwing Championship (heats).2 person teams consisting of catchers and tossers. 10 metres apart and spreading after each successful catch. Drop the egg or break it and your out! Top 5 go through to the finals.

1500 The Egg Throwing Static Relay.11 person team spread 10 metre intervals. 12 eggs to be passed individually along the line. Quickest wins with penalty time points for breakages.

1515 The (under 12) World Egg Throwing Championship.As before but for smaller people.

1600 Finals of the World Egg Throwing and Russian Egg Roulette.Main arena.

This is followed immediately by the award of trophies and press interviews.

Entry to the Swaton Vintage Day is as follows:Adults £4Children of school age £2Under school age free.Concessions £3Family ticket (2 plus 2 paying children) £10

Saturday, 5 June 2010

The WETF got a call from "This Morning", the ITV programme asking if the Federation could help with a programme on Tuesday coming. "Of course but what are you intending to cover" was the response.

After a long series of discussions all was agreed and the CEO set about getting it organised. First she had to contact trainers and players, get gear together and sort out travel. All was going well until she realised she wouldn't make it and would need to trust it to "Odd Job" to represent the World Egg Throwing Federation on the day. Her heart sank.

He is summoned and the task explained "You have to go to London, on a train, cars are organised by the TV people, look after a few people, nothing taxing, nothing complicated, just be there.""O.K," he says "Who's going to be on as well"

Oh! thinks the CEO, who hadn't asked that but remembers seeing something on the Internet earlier, "I think its some singers (trying to remember their names)... Pixie Lott ... and ... Christina Aguilera"Odd Job, starts fidgeting, puffs up his chest, says very firmly "I think I can cope with this, leave it to me"

The CEO is pleased to see Odd Job takes his tasks seriously but is somewhat surprised when he disappears off and comes back minus the weeks growth of stubble and then declares he's off for a hair cut.

Later, after returning newly shorn, Odd Job goes off to do his Emails and returns looking somewhat crestfallen.

"Whats the matter Odd Job?""Nothing........""There is, what is it?""Well, you know you said Pixie and Christina were on the show""Yes, what of it?""On Tuesday, they are on "Good Morning TV", not "This Morning". I wont see them.""Oh sorry. Is that important?""Er, no, of course not.""Who is on?""Rick Astley""Oh!" says CEO (trying desperately to think of a reason why she must now go)

Despite everything, Odd Job soon forgets his disappointment and starts wandering around doing what he does.

Unfortunately, today his tuneless whistling consists of only the first two lines of a chorus, as that is all he knows, repeated over and over and over again "never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down".

Sunday, 30 May 2010

You'll no doubt notice the large amount of roadside advertising that appears during the summer months along roads in the countryside. Some are semi permanent, placed on trailers to avoid planning laws, some are very professional advising of forthcoming county fair whilst others are somewhat less professional with painting daubed on tractor tyres telling of village fetes or lay by tea stops. The latter tend to annoy the grass cutters as they interrupt the flow of the heavy machines and thus don't last long.

Near Swaton, a number of these have appeared on the A52 advising of farm shops, stables, county shows and fairs, caravan sites, burger vans, parkland homes, beds, garage and barns sales. It is, of course, important that ones own sign stand out amongst the litter that these create in order to get the intended message across. To that end Odd Job and some others connected with the Swaton Vintage Day went out earlier with a tractor, flat bed, trailer and other implements of destruction to erect the BIG signs. Odd Job, handicapped by his sore arm and a variety of pain killing drugs that make him even dimmer than normal, was unable to assist to any extent apart from stomping around looking for last years holes on the edges of the fields that the posts will fit "just nicely" into, but at least it kept him out of the way for a while.

The signs a about 6 feet square and mounted on large posts. When erected they proclaim, from the fields to approaching traffic, the essential who, what, when, where and how.

Ive always wondered about that last line..... as if you'd bring someone elses dog for a race?

As this team of ancient crocks were erecting the last sign they noticed the sign that "Half Finished" had erected some days earlier for a "BOOK and PIANT FAIR" at the village hall the day before. You may recall "Half Finished", he's the chap that lives across the road form WETF HQ and is named by his CEO in the same vein as "Half Done" aka "Odd Job" for the same reason.

Wednesday, 19 May 2010

The Beryl has returned. Odd Job was pleased to find the stop out chicken waiting on the door step the next morning. She was been advised that its not really safe to stay out all night. By her waiting by the door its presumed she didn't have a very nice time.

Swaton is a small village on the western edge of the Lincolnshire fens. Set amongst mature trees and productive farmland the 80 or so houses provide homes for about 250 people. Mostly Crown Estate, there are 5 working farms, a micro brewery, farm shop, butchers, furniture workshop and shop, livery yard, riding school and numerous other home workers all doing their bit to support the rural economy. Theres also a distinct lack of usable public transport that means you have to have your own or are pretty much restricted to working part time elsewhere. For instance, you can get to Boston and back on Wednesdays or if you take the train from the nearest station at Heckington, but you have to arrive back in time to catch the last bus from Sleaford at 4 o'clock.

However, on the plus side, Swaton is also the home of the World Egg Throwing Federation and hosts the annual World Egg Throwing Championship each June. Its now in its 5th year and hosted by the Swaton Vintage Day, in its 15th year. This show comprises of 100's of vintage vehicles set in a large medieval ridge and furrow meadow. The normal occupants of either sheep or cattle are moved out a month or so earlier, the grass cropped and baled, leaving a smooth undulating field for the games. Other entertainment includes live music, fun fair rides and terrier racing.

For those of you that haven't ever seen this there now follows a description. 6 dogs of mixed type, loosely described as terriers but in reality any dog that happens to come along and can fit in a wooden trap just about large enough to fit a Labrador, is encouraged to enter. Once 6 are in place, a fellow waves a piece of furry looking material at them to get their attention. As soon as one dog takes the bait and starts barking at this, the others invariably join in.

On the given signal the furry thing is released, to be dragged via a rope on a hand wheeled winch, to the far end of the field, as this is done the front of the traps open. All six dogs, each believing he or she is in reality a 2 year old greyhound and supreme hunter, are off. The three legged Jack Russel leading the way, followed by the overweight Patterdale, then a minute Yorkshire Terrier, 10 year old Labrador, another three legged dog but this time a whippet and then another then Jack Russell. The lead dog position changes rapidly and then back again, falls are common, squabbles break out mid stride, others join in from the side lines. The furry thing is dragged to safety into a drain pipe and the winner, plucked from the barking mob, raised into the air to be proclaimed winner and supreme champion (until the next race).

Tuesday, 18 May 2010

Preparations continue for the 5th World Egg Throwing Championships on June 27th.

Odd Job has been keeping a low profile, organising banners for the publicity whilst the CEO has been telling people how he failed to wake her when the fire occurred on Sunday, leaving that instead to the Fire Brigade, as he "didn't want to worry her". When he does make an appearance she casts that well practiced glare in his direction. He knows he's in trouble, he's not even whistling, but his memory is short and he'll soon forget.

Egg stocks are building despite recent losses of two of Mo's girlfriends. This evening it looks like another has gone too. At dusk only 10 Beryls reported for bed. A search of the area, including Gaston's pen, has failed to find any trace except a hole in the fence into the neighbouring field. It's hoped she will be back in the morning.

The Blue tits are not having much luck either. Their seven eggs hatched but their losses have grown. They only have 4 babies remaining.

On the PR side, interest continues to grow. Whilst no response has been received from David Cameron, nor Tyler Dixon, to the request to attend there has been two enquiries from well known British TV programmes to come along and take part. Nothing confirmed as yet but probable. There's also been interest from a Dutch and German TV again.

This evening, some friends called around the WETF HQ and Odd Job, surprisingly, declared he would prepare a meal. This is unusual as his cooking ability is worse than his whistling but clearly showed he was trying. Very trying, it turned out.

First he produces the menu for the Sunlight Takeaway, then after ordering a large meal for four, declares he might like some cash. The CEO asks "How much would you like?" Odd Job "£80"CEO "That's a lot! How much is the meal?"Guest "£36"CEO "Why do you need £80?"Odd Job grins "You asked me how much I wanted, not what I needed" After cuffing him around the ear, she gives him £40.Odd Job produces wallet and adds the CEOs cash to the wedge he has already secreted in it.CEO "You've got loads of cash! What do you need my £40 for?" Odd Job (as he runs out) "I never said I needed it, just that I'd like it"

As his whistling fades into the night the CEO sighs "He's got to sleep sometime. He can't run when he's asleep"

Sunday, 16 May 2010

Bring, Bring went the telephone, then again, and again, Bring, BringThe CEO, who really isn't a morning person, awoke from her slumbers aware that her Sunday morning lie in had been cut short, annoyed as this was one of her few pleasures in life and that no good waster "Half Done" hadn't got the phone before she was disturbed. Its 9:30, she was expecting tea, papers and the offer of breakfast at 11ish. Every Sunday its the same, she has a lie in, he gets the papers and at the appropriate time makes her tea and offers to cook breakfast. Tea is accepted, cooked breakfast refused. "Half Done" never half does scrambled egg, he makes rubber. Bring, Bring. Bring, Bring.She pulled her self from her covers and stumbled over to the phone. The conversation went something like this."Hello""Hello, this is the Fire and Rescue Service""Hello!""Yes, its about your house fire""What? House fire?""The fire that we just got a call about""We are on fire?""We just got a call saying that your property was on fire""Is it? I didn't know""Oh! That is World Egg Throwing HQ isn't it?""Yes""In Swaton?""We had a call from a man saying that the house was on fire"As she hears this the CEO opens the bedroom door onto the landing and smells smoke."I can smell it""He told us it was out. Can we speak with him?"

The CEO is acutely aware that "Half Done" has previous for claiming a job was finished when in fact its not. Somewhat concerned she hot foots it in search of the cause of the smoke she can smell and the person, no doubt, responsible for it.

Whilst doing this, she is still talking with the nice lady from the Fire Service and is informed that they had got a call some time earlier that said there had been a fire in the boiler, it was out, it was just being reported in case of insurance claims. They just wanted a few more details of the cause.

The CEO is well trained in fire safety. She knows that in case of fire you are meant to raise the alarm, make sure everyone gets out, call the fire brigade and only tackle the fire if safe to do so. She also knows that "Half Done" knows that he's meant to do this too. Where is he?

The smell gets stronger as she approaches the canteen and upon entering she finds the windows and outside doors open. The dogs and cats are in the garden but there is no sign of "Half Done".

She confirms with the Con Op that there is no sign of fire but she can smell it. "He's not here, I'll get him to call you back."

Not in the best of moods she stomps around the grounds calling for him. Not a sign to be had. She rings his mobile phone.

"Hello""Where are you?""I'm getting the Sunday papers""The Fire Brigade have called""Oh, they didn't send a fire engine did they""No, they rang, they want to talk with you""Oh, good, I didn't want a fire engine""You didn't wake me to tell me the house was on fire""I didn't want to worry you"

And that's when the trouble started.

Post script. The WETF HQ is a long, very high ceiling, barn conversion. It is fitted with appropriate smoke or heat detectors in each room and circulation space. The fire was in the 14 month old oil boiler that is outside the property. "Half Done" noticed the smoke before it set off the detection, as it peculated through the service duct. He isolated the boiler, made sure it was out, ventilated the fumes, organised a repair man, rang Fire Brigade to report and get an incident number. Debbie from the Fire Service was wonderful and dealt with the CEO perfectly.

Tuesday, 4 May 2010

All is quiet, the wood was patrolled at first light by the two dogs and Odd Job. Nothing was found.

Mo is dealing with his recent loss well, doing his best to keep his remaining girlfriend and wives spirits up in in own inimitable fashion. He knows that they will soon forget the others, as its hard to remember a lot when your brains slightly smaller than your eye.

However, some chickens don't forget. Over the back wall, Gaston the French cockerel has been plotting. You may recall the jealous Gaston. Whilst he's much larger, he only has three paramours and he's not as good looking nor as brave as Mo. He still stands on his coop roof hurling insults at Mo and Mo crows back, keeping a close watch on the frustrated frenchie.

At the moment, of course, Mo is keeping clear of the wood that separates the two harems so Gaston is able enter unseen. Gaston sees his chance to sneak over when Madge leaves a bucket upside down too close to the wall.

Gaston appears by Mo's coop, on the edge of the wood, and starts to entice the Beryls with smooth Gaelic charm. This is quiet difficult for him though as his short legs, under his massive body, make him waddle as he parades up and down, crooning his tale of love.

Mo is extremely annoyed but aware of the danger of the wood, so he calls for Odd Job.

As he appears the Beryls, TC and Mo all congregate around the fence line in anticipation of the bucket of wild bird food that is usually proffered. Gaston slinks back into the wood. He doesn't like Odd Job as Odd Job chases him and ruffles what little dignity he has.

Odd Job doesn't like Gaston as Gaston is big, has sharp claws and a nasty beak. The last time he had to "assist" Gaston over the wall Odd Job suffered several deep scratches as the lothario fought to break free. But he has a cunning plan for the next "assist".

He spots the cockerel slinking and fetches his "Gaston shifter". This is a large keep net, normally used for fishing but in this case for Gastoning. The chase is on.

Now, despite his short legs Gaston can put on a fair turn of speed when pursued by a human bearing a large net. He legs it to the wall, jumps, falls back, hangs a left and is off down the wall side towards the CEO's greenhouse. Odd Job blusters through the wood, getting tangled, freeing himself and is after Gaston down the side of the structure. He knows he got him now, its a dead end, about 12 feet wide and 20 deep.

As Gaston breaks in the enclosure he's running hell for leather and looking over his shoulder. Odd Job is right behind him, net stretched out to ensnare........ a flash of red to his right catches his eye and he glances right to see a small vixen staring back at him at the bottom of the wall.

The fox heads off, at speed, watching Odd Job over its shoulder. It collides with the end fence, does a left and piles into the wire compound fence, just ahead of Gaston who is running directly at the fox but still watching Odd Job over his shoulder. The fox turns and retreats back the way he came. Odd Job considers the options. Net Gaston, net fox, net Gaston, net fox, FOX! He make a wild swing and misses it by a fraction of a brush.

This was a fortunate miss as Odd Job had really only half done the working out on the consequences of such a move. What on earth would he have done with a live, scared, angry vixen in a fishing net? More to the point what would a live, angry and scared fox have done to the fishing net and the person holding the other end of it?

Gaston is snared, turned upside down and deposited with little ceremony back over the wall. The fox is nowhere to be seen. Lets hope the sight of a large human hunting foxes with a Gaston net is enough to put her off visiting again.

Monday, 3 May 2010

Those that read this blog will recall that Mo lives with his eleven wives and three girl friends. The wives are all called Beryl, the girl friends are/were TC, Goldie and Choo Choo. The girls only visit, sleeping in the wood, up trees, except when broody when they take up coop residence for a few days. They could be seen at sunrise stalking around the wood and orchard, waiting for the pop hole to be opened so they could do their dailies.

We were hoping, with no real belief, that the the sudden disappearance of Goldie could be put down to the cock pheasant that was parading up and down the field edge on the other side of the fence. He'd been there for a week or so, pacing the line, calling out for a mate, and that's when Goldie disappeared. Then Choo Choo went missing as well, as did the pheasant. We noticed that TC rejected the wood during the day and took to loitering under the table by the gate, only venturing out when Mo and the Beryls were in force.

The village has a few foxes but you rarely see them close to the houses during the day. They stalk about on the periphery taking what they can, but this time of year they have youngsters to feed and young cubs need lots of food. The first evidence of this was the sighting of a tiny cub at the side of the road, about a mile outside the village. This pretty little thing was about the size of a small cat, probably 6 or so weeks old, looking as healthy and cute as could be, but also quite dead, struck by a vehicle as it explored its new surroundings.

The foxes have visited before at this time of year and previous Beryls have fallen victim to their need for food. Last time, it was mid morning when the staff were alerted by the frantic calls of Mo. Rushing outside they were met by the sight of a fox chasing around then into the pond a Beryl, Mo stood his ground, shrieking alarm. The fox ran off when he saw help coming, leaving three dead hens.

Theres not a lot to be done about foxes, we cant erect an electric fox proof fence or otherwise secure the grounds. All we can do is take the dogs, Ollie and Ticker, out around the perimeter and through the wood in order to discourage the day time visits. It might work but if not the two patterdales enjoy the experience.

Meanwhile, Odd Job is being kept amused by "Tit TV". All around the grounds are various nesting sites for wild birds. In the cart shed there are pigeons, robins and swallows. In the wood doves, tits and wrens. The walled garden ivy has wrens as well and the front hedge several sparrows and black birds. On the east wall of HQ is a bird box with a camera which relays video of the occupants directly into the canteen. There it can be seen that the occupying blue tits have laid 7 eggs and are caring for them very well, surrounded by their nest of grass, horse hair and a few white downy Mo feathers. One sits most of the time, the other returns often and feeds the sitter. Not enough it would seems as she leaves periodically get more food. She seems to have her own "half done".

Saturday, 1 May 2010

The WETF is pleased to confirm that Joel Hicks will again be attending the World Championships in June. Joel is known to many for a variety of reasons: his stunning body (the CEO has a picture of him as a screen saver), being the World Gravy Wrestling Champion and perhaps most importantly for raising thousands of pounds for a children's hospice in Leicestershire. He's a good egg.

For the last two events he has been integral to the Egg Throwing With Accuracy Challenge, when he appeared as the target.

In this the target stands 24 feet from the throw line.3 Eggs are acquired, in exchange for a small fee.After an appropriate, and acknowledged, warning these are then hurled at Joel.Points are awarded for strikes to each area, if the egg breaks.Head Shot. Nil points.Arm or leg. 1 pointBody shot. 2 pointsGroin shot. 3 points.

For scoring accuracy reasons Joel he declines to wear protection in that important area and so these hits are clearly identifiable.

Last year two players scored maximum points and a throw off was required to establish the World Champion.

Monday, 26 April 2010

Mo and his girls live a quiet life, wandering around their grounds, looking for stuff, talking amongst themselves and cooking up plans. Most of their conversation is difficult to understand by the casual visitor but to the trained ear its quite clear. As you might expect, the staff at WETF HQ have developed finely tuned hearing, with the exception of "Odd Job" who is reported, by the CEO, to be suffer form selective deafness. Despite this, he and the others can usually tell whats going on.

For instance, Mo's conversational chat up lines usual involve excited clucking, combined with scratching the ground, trying to tempt the Beryls or girlfriends to come over to him to look at some non existent tit bit he claims to have found. Despite using this many times daily the girls still mostly fall for it.

Common and distinctive calls from the girls are "Im about to lay an egg", "I wish eggs were smaller" and "Phew! Ive laid an egg".

Sometimes though the calls are more urgent and require rapid intervention. At dusk today the peace was shattered by screams of alarm from the orchard. As this can mean mortal danger, all staff ran to investigate fearing a fox had come to call.

As they entered the orchard, they could see 11 Beryls and Mo at the entrance to the Coop, which was strange in itself as by now they had usually put themselves to bed. Mo was standing 1/2 way up the ramp ladder shouting "Warning, Warning, Danger!".

The Beryls were huddled behind him, all trying to climb up the ramp but Mo wouldnt let them pass, deliberately blocking the way. As they saw the staff they all, except Mo, came running over, complaining that it was bed time and Mo wouldn't let them in. Mo stood his ground, shouting, watching the staff and glancing over his shoulder at the coop hatch. Something was wrong and Mo was protecting the girls.

They hurried over and around the back, supported by 11 large brown hens and one small, very loud, white banty cockerel. The roof was lifted, to reveal the intruder.

All will be revealed tomorrow, meanwhile a prize is offered for the first correct email answer to www.eggthrowing.com

Sunday, 25 April 2010

It is with some concern that we inform readers that Goldie has been reported missing. She was last seen in the wood on Friday 23rd. This matter was not reported until a full area search, including French soil, had been completed.

Two possibilities are being considered:

1. She is alive and broody but is nesting somewhere outside of the grounds of WETF HQ. However, a search has failed to find any trace.

2. She may have been taken by a fox, or other predator, overnight. Despite being expected in these circumstances though, no sign of any attack has been found.

Mo is, as you would expect, maintaining morale within the remaining flock of 11 Beryls and 2 girlfriends.

Goldie is a golden "old English" style banty hen. She is three years old and the 3rd of Mo's girlfriends. She is an expert in escape and evasion.

The WETF remains hopeful that she will return safely. Any sitings should be reported via www.eggthrowing.com

Trebuchets are ancient gravity powered siege weapons that, if corrctly made, can hurl an object some distance with great accuracy. In olden days the projectile of choice included rocks, fire balls and dead people or animals. Nowadays we use, of course, rotten eggs.

The WETF HQ was visited yesterday by a bunch of hopeful egg hurlers under the leadership of a neighbour called "Half Finished". He and his chums have been building a trebuchet for the games in June and requested assistance from the in-house experts with the design of their "egguchet". They explained that the primary problem as that their machine would only throw their golf ball projectile 30 metres and it was travelling way too fast to catch.

In this sport the aim is to hurl an egg to a waiting team member at a starting distance of 30 metres away, three times. The egg has to caught whole for 3 points, if contracted but damaged for 1 point. The distance is then extended by 10 metres and the exercise repeated. Then again and again and again etc.

The trick here is to design a machine that has a variable throw and to use the "lob" technique whenever possible. This involves getting the machine to throwing the egg gently in a suitable arc, so forward momentum is all but lost and the egg falls gently to the waiting hands of the target. When we say gently we mean its accelerating at 9.8 metres per second per second. If one uses a straight throw downward travel speed is limited but the horizontal speed is about 120 mph. For comparison, a bowled cricket ball usually travels at around 95mph.

As the last American team's trebuchet is stored at WETF HQ for this years event (as airlines have problems carrying Weapons of Mess Destruction) this was wheeled out and the problem faced explained. Its not a complicated machine, constructed basically out of a bucket, a piece of stair rail, a section of scaffold pole, two fence posts, a 1953 Morris 1000 exhaust bracket and some string. Size isn't important, nor the counter balance weight, what is vital is the release mechanism. This is a small adjustable pin on the end of the throwing arm that dictates the point of release and thus the angle of the throw.

Watched closely through the fence by the chickens, the device was set up and proceeded to hurl the requested distances. The closer the throw, the higher the lob, the further the distance the more shallow. At 150 metres its an almost straight throw. The height of the lob can be controlled by the release height of the throwing arm and or varying the counter balance mass. A word of caution here, if you over weight the machine it "dry fires", releasing the projectile backwards. That is not a good thing.

Their problem explained "Half Finished" and his team of miscreants depart over the road to re-jig their WMD and take liquid refreshments. Throughout the afternoon cheering could be heard as each shot was released and sent to its, mostly, intended target.

The Beryls wandered off into the woods, clucking their plans amongst themselves, WETF HQ returned to its normal quiet, Mo stalking about keeping watch, doves cooing and in the distance the sound of a woodpecker hammering. At least I think its a woodpecker. We may have to see what the girls are up to.

Friday, 23 April 2010

Its been hectic, radio people, newspaper people and even TV people. All wanting to know strange things about the WETF, what its does and why. Who is Mo?, which chicken is called Beryl? who are the girl friends? wheres Gaston?

The easiest thing was to refer them to the blog campaign trail, the website and let them see Mo. But they still wanted more. Anyway, Mo was very busy celebrating with the ladies and really doesn't do press well, in fact it was requested he did his celebrating well out of camera shot.

So it was left to the CEO to deal with, but the problem was that there were far too many press enquires for one to deal with. However, shes very organised and came up with a fine solution, delegate the more mundane enquires task of looking after photographers to "Odd Job", she would deal with the important ones.

Aware of his ability to talk fair exceeded his level of common sense, or indeed his grasp of reality, she gave him a carefully prepared, basic facts, crib sheet along with the words "You are NOT to deviate from this." Odd Job nodded enthusiastically and went off to talk to "Papps" (although he was unsure why they were all called the same name and was further confused by the fact that some didn't even look look old enough to be fathers).

The day ended well with all press accounted for..........then the CEO saw the quotes.

Not a mention of the start of egg throwing in 1322 to feed starving peasants, not a mention of the months of preparation and not a mention of the Swaton Vintage Day charitable works in support of Cancer Research groups, The Red Cross, Shelterbox, The Lincolnshire Integrated Voluntary Emergency Service (LIVES)and their 10,000 calls per year.

She waited for him in the canteen whilst he was out giving the girls that evening snack. He sauntered back, whistling, badly.

"Odd Job! Whats this about the us wanting egg throwing in Olympics?" she asks."Ah" he says, ducking from the hand that swept in to cuff his ear "I thought that was a good idea"

He goes onto explain that he'd noticed that the Olympics Committee were following them on Twitter, as was Boris, plus the main political parties and some other people he didn't recognise but they seemed to quite nice, mostly.

The CEO thought for a while, stroking gently the cat she was holding, before saying "Hmmm, Odd Job, it might just work"

Thank you to all of you that voted for us, it is really appreciated. Keep June 27th free.

The joy of watching Russian egg roulette and target throwing has won The World Egg Throwing Championships the top prize for quirkiest event in England.

The egg fanatics beat off competition from events such as stilton cheese-rolling, crabbing, coal carrying, nettle eating and an asparagus festival to triumph in the very first “Where Else but England Award” – a new award in the annual Enjoy England Awards for Excellence, sponsored by the Caravan Club. After regional heats across England, a shortlist of 18 finalists fought it out to win the top accolade in a public vote. More than 40,000 people voted on both The Sun newspaper and Enjoy England’s websites to vote for their favourite quirky events and eccentric experiences that are unique to England.

Andy Dunlop, organiser of the World Egg Throwing Championship said he was deeply honoured to receive the award in rightful recognition that egg throwing is: “the sport of England, with ancient origins predating rugby, football, caber tossing and synchronised swimming. We look forward to the approach from the British Olympic Committee with their offer of appearing in 2012 as a demonstration sport”. Andy said: “We are eggstatic at this result and eggcited by the recognition of our sporting achievements. Some say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, not a real sport, but they are just yolking. The five ancient disciplines take practice, stamina, skill and experience. Luck and foolishness plays no part in this sport, unlike rowing, marathon running or gymnastics. The hard boiled truth is that egg throwing is the only true sport where a 12 year old boy can win a gold medal for throwing three eggs into the unprotected groin of a 6'3" 240 lb muscleman, where a pack of eleven Brownies can win gold for passing 12 eggs along a line faster than any one else, where a seven-year old girl or 73 year old grandmother can be World Champion by smashing eggs on her head. This sport of England is now recognised the World over as a true test of skill, hard work and honour.”

Amanda Smyth of VisitEngland said: “There are some startlingly creative and exciting experiences to be found around the country. We hope this award will remind people of those traditions, both old and new, that are unique to England and inspire them to go out and explore what’s on their doorstep.”

The 2010 top ten quirkiest events in England voted in order of popularity in the Where Else But England awards are:

1. World Egg Throwing Championships are next held on 27 June at Swaton Vintage Day near Sleaford in Lincolnshire This eggtastic eggstravaganza offers everything from basic egg throwing and catching to relays, egg roulette and build your own egg hurling trebuchet. www.eggthrowing.com

2. Worthing Bird Man Festival 14 and 15 August 2010 in Worthing, West Sussex. Watch people jumping off Worthing pier in an attempt to fly 100m to win a big prize. Or take three flying classes to decide if you want to take part. www.worthingbirdman.co.uk

3. The Annual World Nettle Eating Contest, held this year on 12 June in Marshwood in Dorset, is apparently the only place in the world where you can see brave competitors munching through up to 48ft of stinging nettles! Yum. www.visit-dorset.com

4. Worcestershire Asparagus Festival, between April 23 – May 31 in Evesham, Worcestershire. Asparagus-mania hits the rural market town of Evesham every year, celebrating the start of the English asparagus season. The month-long festival includes a Great Asparagus Run, an “asparomancer” asparagus fortune teller as well as tastings and farmers markets. www.britishasparagusfestival.org

5. Haxey Hood – Every January the villages of Haxey in North Lincolnshire have “a kind or rugby game with no rules and unlimited participants”. It’s been going on since the 14th century to celebrate the day a local Lady donated land to farmers to thank them for chasing her lost bonnet twww.wheewall.com/hood

6. The World's Biggest Liar Competition November 2010 - at the Santon Bridge Inn in Cumbria. This event celebrates the tall tales of a previous publican Will Ritson and in recent years the audience has heard how the Lake District was formed not by ice or volcanic action, but by large moles and eels!. www.santonbridgeinn.com/liar

7. Dwyle Flonking The villagers of Lewes and the patrons of the Lewes Arms pub dance - in a circle - around one person in the middle, who attempts to lob a dishcloth at them as they dance around. The earliest definitely known game of Dwile Flonking was played at the Beccles Festival of Sport in 1966. www.lewesarms.org.uk

8. Stilton Cheese Rolling, May 3, Stilton Cambridgeshire – Every May Day, hundreds of villagers and visitors make their way to the main street to watch the teams battling for the honour of being called the 'Stilton Cheese Rolling Champions'. Download application forms to join in this year at www.stilton.org

British Open Crabbing Championship, August, Walberswick Suffolk – Pay one pound and be one of the 1000 people who take part in the British Open Crabbing championship Over a 90 minute period, and armed only with a single line and bait, the person landing the single heaviest crab wins. Many entrants use bait made to a closely guarded secret, and competition is intense! www.walberswick.wsShrovetide Football Game, Shrove Tuesday, Alnwick Northumberland – once upon a time many parishes in the north of England, on Shrove Tuesday each year, played a great game of “mob football”. At Alnwick, the tradition has survived. The earliest description of the game is from 1762, describing how, at 2pm, a football was thrown over the castle wall to the populace. www.visitnorthumberland.com

For further information on the awards, please visit www.enjoyengland.com/whereelse

§ *The ‘Where Else But England’ public vote has a Facebook page and a Twitter page. Find out the results of the award at www.facebook.com and www.twitter.com @whereelsebut

About VisitEngland

In response to a clear call from industry arising from the 2008 British Tourism Framework Review, VisitEngland has been created as the strategic leadership body representing the public and private sector stakeholders of English Tourism. It works in partnership with VisitBritain, the RDAs and local authorities, and the private sector, creating a national tourism strategy, optimising marketing investment, and developing the visitor experience across England VisitEngland continues to use its Enjoy England consumer brand in the domestic market and markets England under the VisitEngland brand in international markets More information can be found on www.enjoyengland.com and www.visitengland.com/corporate VisitEngland nine Regional Tourism Partners are: East of England Tourism, East Midlands Tourism, Advantage West Midlands, Visit London, One NorthEast, Northwest Regional Development Agency, Tourism South East, South West Tourism, Welcome to Yorkshire.An archive of media releases and more details about the work of VisitEngland promoting England as a destination can be found on the new online press centre, www.enjoyengland.com/presscentre

About The Caravan Club

As Europe’s premier touring organisation, The Caravan Club represents the interests of one million caravanners, motor caravanners and trailer tenters. The Club operates the largest privately owned network of quality sites in the UK, together with a further 2,500 Certificated Locations (sites that take a maximum of five outfits). For more information visit The Club's award-winning website at www.caravanclub.co.uk. For more press information please contact The Caravan Club Press Office on 01342 336664 or 01342 336768, or email press@caravanclub.co.uk

Thursday, 22 April 2010

Been a busy day with phone calls, people requesting pictures, arranging interviews for tomorrow. The team have been drummimg up last minute support for the voting and preparing for a result announcement. No call yet from the Olympics team, but, hey, we have 2 years to prepare for that.

Chickens toes are crossed. Mo is quietly confident but wont count his girls production until tomorrow.

Wednesday, 21 April 2010

Today we were going to cover the adventure of Mo and the trebuchet but fast moving stories have led to the need to issue the press release below. Mo will continue tomorrow.

World Egg Throwing Federation Press Release 21st April 2010

1610 hours

Following the inappropriate and illegal assault on Tory hopeful David Cameron today the World Egg Throwing Federation condemns completely the use of eggs in such a manner.

A spokesman for the World Egg Throwing Championship event says that “The throwing of eggs to an unwilling participant in an egg catching game is against not only the rules but also the spirit of them.”

The World Egg Throwing Federation makes the following offers:

1. To invite David Cameron to attend the World Egg Throwing Championships on June 27th in order that he receives proper instruction on how to receive an egg correctly.

2. To nominate Mr Cameron for the position of Deputy World President of the Federation is recognition of his response to the inappropriate attack. Previous nominee Mr John Prescott failed to accept his nomination.

3. To invite Mr Tyler Dixon of Cornwall to attend the World Egg Throwing Championships so he can learn the correct way to throw and egg and also benefit from the experience of being the target in the Egg Throwing with Accuracy Game.

The World Egg Throwing Championship has been nominated as England’s Most Unique Event and takes place, this year, on June 27th at Swaton in Lincolnshire.

World Egg Throwing Federation

Further details can be obtained via the website at www.eggthrowing.comVia E mail at admin@eggthrowing.com

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Mo is like most of Britain, he cant fly. He tries to, but its not what he's best at. This causes some problems and frustrates him enormously.

Here's two examples:Today the rooks discovered that the fat ball containers had been refilled and the beasties flew in en masse and, six at a time, set about clearing them pdq, rather messily. Mo paced around underneath pointing out the stuff they were dropping, helpfully encouraging them to come down to get it. It however appears that either Mo cant speak rook or, more likely, the rooks were suspicious of Mos intentions and none came down. Mo clearly believed that they couldn't hear him as he then started jumping up at them, all to no avail as they were about 5 feet up and he can only jump about 6 inches.

Eventually Mo tired of this game when his eye was caught by the first butterfly of the day. He was off, chasing the little yellow snack. This flash of yellow, followed by a white feather duster shaped chicken drew the attention of the Beryls, they joined in the Benny Hill style chase.

Now, it would appear to the casual observer that butterfly flight is a haphazard affair with no intentional directional control at all, but today's observations tend to prove otherwise. The yellow snack flew at about 2 feet and progressed around the orchard in a counter clockwise direction, followed by Mo and 11 chickens. Each jumping and diving for the tender morsel. But as one got close, it rose a fraction and changed direction, avoiding the clucking hoard by a short head. Around the grounds twice and then over the pond. The chickens stopped short, deep water they dont like. The butterfly, watched by all the girls, went to the far side and settled on the edge to drink. All the chickens immediately lifted their skirts and tore around the pond but as they arrived the butterfly took off and went to the side they had just left. Clearly a plan was devised then as about 1/2 the chickens returned, leaving a vanguard on the far bank side. The butterfly rose high into the sky and flew over the wood.

Monday, 19 April 2010

All had a good night and when opened up this morning all seemed quiet, too quiet. Something was being hatched.

After morning routines, Mo ambled over to the double doors, which are glazed top to bottom and that lead into the orchard from WETF HQ. He peers into the glass from about 6 feet and finds that quite clearly he can see another white cockerel about 12 feet away, inside the building.

He draws himself up and lets off a crow and glares. Surprisingly for Mo, the other cockerel does exactly the same thing. Mo repeats, so does the other. Mo moves sideways, so does the other. More crowing, more moving about. This could go on quite awhile. It usually does.

Meanwhile, two of the newly clipped Beryls meander over to the 5 bar gate that forms the barier between the orchard and the driv. They scratch about for a bit and then, Steve McQueen style, they approach the bottom of it which has an "Odd Job" carefully placed chicken wire barrier to prevent said creatures from hopping though the open style of such devices.

As one appears to be keeping watch, whistling a well known Elmer Bernstein tune, the other furtively lifts the wire with its foot. A quick look over to see that Mo is keeping the watchers busy and then one, then the other crouch down and in turn limbo under the 3 inch gap. After the briefest of moments to check the coast is clear, they both high tail it towards the front, keeping close to the wall.

Odd Job, alerted by the CEO steps out from HQ and catches them mid run, they stop, scratch at the gravel adopting the all innocent look, as if to say "Nice weather we're having"

Sunday, 18 April 2010

Mo is overjoyed. That so and so chicken has at last decided not to try to hatch eggs she hasn't got and has gone to roost in the wood. Peace returns and more importantly he has got his bed back. When he emerged this morning he had suffered badly, with at least 2 hits. A quick check around the grounds, looked after the girls, had a bite and then a nice long dust bath. The girls complained that they thought the dust bath should have been his first port of call.

Now that Choo Choo has vacated, egg production is back up to speed with 9 provided today. Bob the Ride On Mower has been back in for a trim, the suns been shining, Gastons secured and the crows haven't been in stealing all the food. Mo's been wandering around singing "Feeling Good" (the Muse version of course, he cant do Nina Simone).

So if its so good why oh why has one of the Beryls decided that the grass is greener elsewhere. Earlier today WETF HQ got a call from the French, "One of your girls is in the field". Turns out chased by a dog and had taken refuge in a thicket. She was recovered and placed back in the orchard with a few stern words and reminded that its not safe out there. A little later shes seen again, at the gate, sizing it up. A quick flap and she up, over and onto the driveway. From there she off around the front,out onto the street and, without pausing or looking, straight across the road. Chickens don't do road safety!

Fortunately Swaton High Street is similar to the sky at the moment, empty. "Odd Job" is out in a flash and calls her back. She slinks over to the pavement and crouches.

"Crouches", whats that all about then? I'm glad you asked. The "crouch" is a sort of "Hello, how are you?" in chicken speak and is undertaken so other, larger chickens, can pat them on the back by way of a return greeting.

Shes patted, scooped up and returned to the orchard, again.

Chickens do not respect fence lines, if it can be seen, it must be investigated and the presence of a four foot fence is no real obstacle. This is dealt with in the old fashioned manner of a feather clip. The errant chicken is grasped gently around the body, the left wing is stretched out and the trailing edge of the flight feathers are cut off. Its like a hair cut, no pain but it prevents balanced directional flight. Then all the other Beryls are rounded up, if one can fly over the fence, they all can. They too have their left wing clipped. The tree living girl friends retreat up a tree, avoiding the situation and cackle.

So now your asking "why the left wing?". I thought you were. The left wing is clipped on each because if you do a right on some and a left on the others they will pair off, hold hands, flap in unison and get over the fence. As they say "simples"

Saturday, 17 April 2010

Chickens roost, by this I mean they sleep on a perch. TC, Goldie and Choo Choo normally retire up a tree in the wood, the Beryls sleep on perches (wooden bars) in the coop, 5 or 6 to each. Mo isn't big enough to reach the bar so he tends to sleep in a nest box and thus the girls get an undisturbed night.

However, because of Choo Choo's current situation Mo has been forced to vacate the box and is sleeping on the equivalent of the settee. This has its draw backs as it directly below 5 or 6 Beryls. Chicken are generally not house trained and do not warn of their intentions. Mo is not a happy bunny.

Today he demanded, and got, a clean bed. This regular process involves lifting and propping the roof, ejecting Choo Choo, shovelling out the old matted carpet of wood shavings, removing old nest box hay, sliding out the floor, sweeping down, checking for pests, washing out, then replacing with new, more fragrant, wood shavings and hay. This work is closely followed by the girls who all believe that the task can not be completed without their valuable input, they offer advice throughout the whole affair, inspecting the work , making appropriate "Ooohhhh" noises and getting in the way. After its done they all troop in, Mo included, to have a look around. Scratching at the wood shavings as if to check its depth, rearranging the furniture, counting the nest boxes, making contented noise then go off to upgrade their zoopla settings. I'm sure they compare it with Gastons, next door.

Mo went to his new bed happy tonight, only to find Choo Choo had again taken up residence in the box. He's on the settee again.

Friday, 16 April 2010

The website has been hot with visitors calling in from all over the world, it appears that the Lincoln Echo may have a wider audience than expected.

Meanwhile, back at the coop the girls have had a well fed day as "Half Done" was left in charge of cooking. He hasn't quite got the quantities needed worked out yet. The celery and potato soup was OK, just a bit chewy and needed to be cut with a knife. The main pasta dish however was best described as unusual, although the less kind would say inedible. That said the chickens certainly didn't find it so. They love pasta, no matter how badly cooked.

The strange thing about chickens is that they haven't got the concept of sharing and are also not able to recognise that there is plenty to go around. Its an odd sight, when called, they all come running from where ever they are loitering. They all bowl over as fast as their little legs will carry them, wings outstretched for balance,looking like running matrons holding their skirts up.

As the vast quantity of pasta is ladled out, they squabble amongst themselves for the food, each picking up what they can and running off to prevent others taking it. Upon being seen leaving with a beak full, despite there being plenty still down, the other girls chase after them to attempt to snatch the trailing strands, in a long line, Benny Hill fashion. This parade of running chickens can go on for a while, even passing several times the stuff that's still on the ground. Meanwhile Mo makes "look what Ive found noises" in an attempt to show the girls what a great pasta hunter he is.

Eventually they eat it their fill, wander over to the water trough to quench their thirst, then off to bed. That's when the real trouble starts, Choo Choo is still in there, sitting astride nothing and grumbling that she missed all the pasta. The hedgehogs will finish it after dark, there'll be none left in the morning.

Please carry on voting and, if you don't mind, direct others to www.eggthrowing.com so they can too.

Thursday, 15 April 2010

Its been a busy day at WETF HQ, people calling around all day to either support the WETF by purchasing eggs or to try and persuade the team to vote for them in some other election that seems to be going on. "Odd Job" was left in charge of door answering.

This was positive on two fronts;

1. He did manage to get the rosette wearing types to agree to vote for World Egg Throwing Championship in exchange for a reciprocal one from him. (Although some did look a bit apprehensive at first when egg throwing was mentioned and hes not sure how he's going to vote 4 times in their contest.)

2. Eggs sales help support the WETF and are very popular as the girls live a happy carefree life (now Gastons not about) eating healthy organic stuff. The eggs are very large with firm shells, bright yellow yolks and very tasty.

The latter process though has identified a recent problem. Egg production has slowed, only 4 eggs today and the same the past few days. This was taken up with Mo.

Mo, being male was very quick with an explanation, saying it was definitely not his fault, then continuing with some great authority, that he believes "the current colder weather has been brought about by the Icelandic volcanic eruption casting a shadow across the orchard, the girls have gone rapidly into winter lay mode and we can expect a down turn until the ash cloud departs" (or words to that effect).

This all sounds very plausible as Mo is well educated cockerel. However, never one to take anything at face value, the CEO noted the following:

a. Choo Choo is still hormonally challenged and sets about any chicken that comes within laying distance of her within the nest box. This may go one for anotehr 8 days or so.

b. When they lay an egg the girls celebrate and make a loud fuss. This may have something to do with the size of the eggs. This celebration call frequency has not diminished.

c. The girls seem to be spending a lot of time in the corner of the wood behind the thick bramble that "Odd Job" was going to clear last year.

He is sent to investigate and return sometime later with a basket with 34 eggs in it.

Mo chipped in that was going to be his back up theory if the volcano one was wrong.

Wednesday, 14 April 2010

The officially recognised boarder between English and French territory at Swaton is the wall behind the wood. One one side Mo and his devoted team of 14 prepare for the World Egg Throwing Championship, on the other lives the underemployed, flightless Gaston and his three paramours.

Gaston, a large fellow with short stumpy legs, has been constantly causing trouble by jumping over the low wall in order to attempt to steal away some of Mo's essential workers. He does this by being loud and posturing, taunting Mo, in a thick French chicken accent with calls of "You feather duster you" and comparing him to the Italian Captains hat off "Allo allo".

Mo's response is always the same, a chant of "come over here if you think your hard enough", a quick dash at the interloper and then Gaston hops back over to his own side. But "enoughs enough" says Mo, demanding action to prevent further unwarranted incursions into his sovereign space.

Initial attempts to prevent this leaping over were made by making use of some beer crates on top of the frontier, but Gaston, being a persistent type, was not easily put off. He spent days practicing his jumping and could eventually manage the extra foot or so. Further action was required. Behind the scenes high level negotiations between the WETF CEO and Marge, the lady that has the house over the wall, led to a plan of action.

The operation required Marge's two delightful daughters Fifi and Sairs to erect an iron curtain. "Odd Job" happened to have a few partially used wooden posts from a previous unfinished task along with some chicken wire from some other poorly completed job. These were passed to the daughters who manfully sledge hammered the poles into place and then tacked the wire between them to form a 6 foot high, Gaston proof, fence on his side of the wall.

All incursions have now stopped and peace has returned, sort of. Gaston still stands on top of his coop shouting in his french chicken accent. Mo retaliates by parading his girls in full view and singing, in style of the Fun Loving Criminals, "Everybody knows fat birds don't fly"

Tuesday, 13 April 2010

"Spring has sprung, the grass has ris, I wonder where the birdie is" says Mo as he stumbles about in the long grass looking for his girls. Life gets pretty difficult when your legs are only 2 inches long, on tippy toes, and the grass is already above Mos head in some places. Time to fire up the Hayter!

This, of course, requires the assistance of "Odd Job" as despite his many skills Mo has yet to master the complexities of a pull start and in any case the steering of it is also pretty difficult.

"Odd Job" has some sympathy with Mo as he has similar difficulties but he has a solution. He'll get someone in. In keeping with the naming process discussed yesterday he calls upon the services Bob "the Ride On" Mower.

Bob is tall, dark and handsome. A local 28 year old whose given task is to keep down the grass in various village venues, a strong silent type but with a twinkle in his eye. Hes extremely cheap and always available. All the village ladies love him, especially the CEO, thus "odd Job" will get some much needed brownie points for arranging for Bob to call.

When I said that Bob is tall, I meant TALL. He is 15.2 hands high and a chestnut gelding.

Bob duly arrives and is placed in the area between the orchard and the pond. Each part is fenced off with some wire that Bob thinks might be electric and thus horse proof. The girls all gather round and follow Bob expectantly, hovering at his hooves and clucking excitedly. Mo stalks off into the long grass and glares. He doesn't like Bob.

Monday, 12 April 2010

Part Two. In which Mo considers global warming.

Mo, being a short fellow, doesnt like deep water and he knows that WETF HQ has been warned that the flood risk in Swaton may impact the lower reaches of the Eau. He raised this at his breakfast meeting with the CEO this morning. She agrees this might be a problem and has decided that the hen house should be moved to higher ground, just in case. To undertake this task she called upon the efforts of the HQs "Odd Job"

You may be aware that some people are known, and therefore named, for their particular skills, traits or life style, for instance Eric "Slow Hand" Clapton, Steve "Interesting" Davies or Leonard "Bones" McCoy.

"Odd Job" is referred to in the same manner, mainly because any task his undertakes looks a bit of an odd job when he claims its finished. He's otherwise known as "Half Done". The reasoning for this naming include the unpainted skirting boards, the unfinished rill, the partially fixed trim on the car and the "tidied up" workshop. The CEO had a list of intended works appended to the canteen fridge door, as that's where "Odd Job" hides regularly and she knows it should catch his eye. It appears though that "Odd Job" has a vision problem as some of the items on the list are now 9 years old.

"Odd job" will plead in his defence a variety of reasons for the finished appearance or failure to complete. His current favourites are that he hasn't got the tools, time, ability, he's thinking about the best way to do it or his arm hurts. He is though extremely good at wandering around, whistling tunelessly, getting in the way and looking hurt if complained about.

Just so you have a reference point, he resembles the "skool dog" and has a similar demeanor. Despite all the above he's been around for ages, the CEO is very tolerant and accepts that his eventual solution of "we should get a man in" is probably the best option and works out cheaper than firing him (which she has considered many times).

"Odd Job" immediately starts to ponder the job. Some years earlier he had been given the task of landscaping the orchard. As this involved the use of a proper man sized piece of kit he was quite keen and obtained a large digger with a dozer blade attached to the front. He rapidly excavated the pond, leveled the grounds and piled a fair bit of soil for later redistribution. As you would expect, the pond does not hold water, the ground is not level and the pile of earth is now a permanent grassed hummock feature.

"Odd Job" declared, after some deep thought that the task required the use of two more "handy men". By this he meant the two fellows that live next door, as they were nearby and both had arms that didn't hurt. He would supervise the movement of the coop to the top of the hummock to make sure it all went well. The chaps eventually arrived and a large quantity of refreshments were obtained from the canteen. Mo watches carefully as the three "workers" stood around for a while, being pecked at by the Beryls, drinking from bottles whilst the plan was discussed, each in turn judging the weight of the said coop by attempting, and failing, to lift it with one hand. As the afternoon progressed they felt it became too hot to undertake the task so they retreated to under a tree to consider more options, whilst more beer was consumed.

As dusk fell the CEO went outside to question how things were coming along. She found that the two handy men had departed and "Half Done" was sitting on the decking, contemplating the newts diving around in the very shallow pond.

"So, hows it going?" she asked, noting that the coop is in exactly the same place as before and Mo was quietly herding in his girls for the night.

"Odd Job" explained that, following extensive and careful consideration of the situation, he (and the handy men, and thereby diluting blame) had decided that in order for the chicken coop to be flooded by rising sea levels, or indeed the Eau, there would have be a catastrophic flood of biblical proportions that would cover most of the County to a depth of 15 or maybe 20 feet. Due to the risk of injury, damage to the coop and not wanting to disturb the banty Choo Choo that was still sitting on a clutch of eggs it was probably best to put it off for another day.

At least she hadn't had to put up with that infernal tuneless whistling all day. She looked upon the seated figure and smiled, she could see he thought he had done a good deal of work and that he thought she had real soft spot for him.

Mo knows what shes thinking, its the peat bog down the fen, they will never find his body there.

Sunday, 11 April 2010

Part One.Swaton is a quiet little village of about 80 homes, partially divided by the River Eau, a little stream that meanders down the beck under a bridge and off into the fens. Its full of sticklebacks, eels and small furry creatures that move just slightly too fast for one to identify what they are. Herons and king fishers ply along the banks, as do occasional barn owls.

However, the Eau also floods, normally not too seriously, just the roads with dark static water. Nowadays this causes chaos for passing motorists that ignore the 30mph limit and don't realise early enough to prevent driving straight into the deep water just over the hump back bridge. No risk of injury, just a big bow wave, lots of steam and curses as the drivers struggle from their drenched car to dry land on foot.

The Eau flooding was the start of Egg Throwing in Swaton circa 1322. The Abbot had the chickens and the peasants didn't so he used to give each that attended Church 1 egg as an encouragement to tear themselves away from Channel Fours "Trans World Sport". When the Eau flooded the monks used to hurl the eggs across the swollen river to the waiting Swatonites and the sport of Egg Throwing was born. If the Eau was in full flood and even wider they used to use small trebuchets to go that little bit of extra distance required.

The Eau didn't used to flood very often but during the last 8 years we've had 6 or so once in 25 year events. This, we are assured, is to caused by global warming and has nothing to do at all with the bridge supports put in to make our little old hump back bridge stronger for euro lorries that trudge mournfully through the County in search of vegetables.

The Environment Agency wrote to the WETF HQ last week and advised that they had, following complaints about late warnings, reassessed the flood identification process and very helpfully realigned the sensors to take account of the rapid water level rise. It is now advised that flood warning will arrive about 2 1/2 hours earlier than before. This is good news, as previously they arrived about 1 hour after the flood had covered the road.

This most excellent warning frame will give the villagers more time to set up the video cameras they need to record for "you've been framed" those attempting to drive at speed through the 3 feet of river sitting across the road. There is also a nifty side line for those with tractors to pull them out once filming's complete.

Part 2 tomorrow, in which we discuss the role of "Odd Job Man" and his assistance to Mo with the global warming problem.

Saturday, 10 April 2010

It may be Saturday and a day off for most but Mo and the girls are just as busy as any other day. Theres no rest when preparing for the forthcoming World Egg Throwing Championships and an election for "England's Most Unique Event" in just a few days.

Business started early when Mo organised a finger tip search of the wood for early morning worms. This was going well until some of the girls decided to take a well deserved dust bath. For those of you that don't know I should explain; This involves snuggling down in a pre-prepared dusty depression, spreading wings and legs in all directions then throwing soil, dust, debris and anything else that comes to wing all over the prone body. This is then followed by a period of taking the rays and chilling. There lies a picture of happy chickens.

However, for all intents and purposes these relaxed hens, laying motionless and bedraggled, tend to look pretty unwell, even unconscious, to any cockerel that happens to pass by.

Mo, upon seeing this sight of perceived devastation, immediately leaps into action and attempts his well practised resuscitation technique. He's pretty good at this and very quickly the girls are all up and about, grumbling about never getting a minutes peace and off worm hunting again. Mo fluffs out his chest, crows and shows them the best places to feed whilst he stands guard.

Over on the far side of the pond is a decked area overlooked by WETF HQ. This has large picture windows where the staff can maintain an eye over proceedings. Its also a good vantage point to watch the pigeons, doves, crows and other birds stop off for a free lunch on the hens provided food. Sometimes though the free lunch takers get to be on the menu of others.

Today for instance, as a dove was coming into land. It made its checks, did its final approach, altered flaps, when suddenly from above came a large hawk dashing in to intercept. The dove saw it, changed direction, so did the hawk, both moved at great speed, one to escape, one to feed. Each concentrated on the other. With an almighty BANG! BANG! both flew into the window and crashed to the decking, stunned, leaving powder imprints of themselves on the glass where they struck.

All eyes moved to the scene. Neither bird moved for a second, then the dove shook itself, recovered and beat a hasty but shaky retreat to the safety of the wood. The hawk still lay there, barely moving.

Before anyone else could intervene, this is where Mo, never one to miss an opportunity to do a good deed, saw his chance to assist. As he hot footed it over from the treeline you could almost hears his cries of "Make way, make way, I'm a trained first aider".

Fortunately for the hawk, it came around and dragged its self to its feet just before Mo arrived. It fixed Mo in its unsteady concussed gaze, Mo stopped, stared back.

Its appears that at this point Mo seemed to remember that hawks eat small chickens and that, despite his opinion of himself, he could indeed be classed as such a creature. However, the hawk seemed unsure, confused, possibly by the fact that he could see 2 cockerels where moments before only one had stood. One small chicken is easy meat, but two is hard work. The hawk chose to depart, nursing a bruised ego and sore head.

Mo, convinced his mere presence had saved the day, strutted off looking for more lives to save.

Friday, 9 April 2010

Earlier today a nasty smear campaign was started claiming that Mo was involved in improper actions by having 12 girlfriends.

Staff at the World Egg Throwing Federation were quick to point out that he, despite being a bit of a tiger, actually has only 3 girlfriends and the other 11 ladies in his life are his wives. (Those of you following this will be aware that all are called Beryl, that they know all about and accept the 3 girlfriends).

A detailed investigation has failed to identify the culprit or purpose of this attempted smear campaign but suspicion is placed firmly at Gaston, the french cockerel, next door as late yesterday Gaston (who has just 3 wives) made an attempt to lure away some of Mo's during an uninvited incursion across boarders. Despite the massive size and vocal capability difference Mo rapidly and heroically saw off the large jealous Gallic interloper.

Meanwhile, despite the unwanted interest in Mo's home life, the coop has been reasonably peaceful today with the exception of dusk. The Beryls have taken exception to Choo Choos presence in nestbox 1 and a squabble ensued. So loud was the cacophony that the WETF HQ was alerted and had to investigate. A few beaks were tapped, words exchanged and now alls quiet.

Thursday, 8 April 2010

Election Day Three.Looks like the first real day of spring and most of the girls have been down the waters edge hunting for frogs, toads, newts, spawn, bugs and anything else that moves. Organic free range eggs have the most unpleasant base ingredients. This hunting activity also makes it difficult for Mo as they, the girls, can all move more quickly than he can on the steeply sloped sides. Hes had a frustrating day.

He has though kept himself busy watching for hawks and by trying to think up a consoling message for Fowler, a close friend and fellow cockerel who, strangely for a chicken, supports Manchester United. Mo hasn't been successful in that endeavour, much like Fowlers team. Oh well, theres always hope for the next game but he told him that last weekend as well. In reality, Mo likes to wind up Fowler.

Wednesday, 7 April 2010

Day 2 of the election campaign.Going well despite some strange voting patterns from the Nettle Eaters. They surprisingly went form 1% to 16% overnight, leaving a sour taste in the mouth. It could be that they are taking lessons from Zimbabwe. Later a flurry of activity was spotted from the Birdman but this was out done as a result of the Village newsletter going out, a couple of appearances on local radio and Mos twitter account going world wide via retweet. Mo would argue that he crows rather than tweets.

Meanwhile here at WETF HQ its been raining, much to Mos delight as the girl all congregate under the coop making them easier for him to "look after" as they don't run away. Bad news is that Choo Choo has gone broody overnight and is thus hogging one of the nesting boxes. Anyone that approaches box, including Mo, is seen off by the bad tempered bantam. We have probably 2 weeks of this before she gets bored and returns full time life outside.

Who is Mo?Mo is a white miniature silky cockerel. He was hatched on the 27th February 2005 in Sheffield. He moved south shortly afterwards and now resides in 2 story coop in Swaton at WETF headquarters.

What’s his job?He looks after his girls. But when not doing that he also enjoys patrolling the orchard, pond edge and the adjoining fir tree copse.

Girls! How many?Today he has a harem of 11 brown hen wifelets, who are for convenience, are all called Beryl. Plus three Hamburg banty, and very game, girlfriends called TC, Choo Choo and Goldie.

The coop must be crowded?Not really, it’s a 12 beds affair and the three girlfriends live in the wood, 12 feet up a tree. They say Mo snores, he denies this.

Any ambitions?Mo seeks only to serve and protect. This is almost a full time job as he has many enemies.

He has enemies!The Foxes. They have visited previously and are a pair of blood thirsty coves that attempt to hurt him and his girls. Sadly, there have in the past been casualties despite Mo’s brave defence undertaken at some great personal risk.The Hawks. A visit by them has previously led to the loss of Eeny Meeny and Miny. These were Mo’s sisters. It was sudden and there was nothing Mo could have done to prevent the dastardly deed. Mo keeps a close eye out for hawks but is often distracted.Big Gaston. He lives next door and is a large French fellow. He is eight times Mo's size, has only three wives and very very jealous. He occasionally comes over to visit but is seen off by Mo. Big Gaston, whilst good at posturing, is a bit of a coward.

Tell me more about Mo’s wifelets and girlfriends.I’m glad you asked me that. The Beryls are all rescue hens that reached the end of their professional egg laying life when just over 1 year old. They understand, and we don’t tell them otherwise, that this normally means that they go of to retire to a Welsh town called Abattoir where they would spend time making soup and nuggets. However, in their case they have come to Swaton instead and live out the rest of their lives sunning their legs to a deep yellow, patrolling the orchard, wood and pond area looking for things. New Beryls arrive periodically to keep them company, as space permits.

TC (otherwise known as Tree Creeper or Top Chicken) is the oldest girl. She is the (incubation) mother of Choo Choo. They are very close. Goldie (who is Choo Choo’s egg mother but doesn’t know it) came to live with Mo after the Foxes visited her coop and killed everyone there except her. THis is a plot worthy of East Enders.

The ladies together produce between 4 and 11 eggs a day, depending on the time of year. These are used at WETF headquarters. Any that are left over are given to neighbours or, if not used up, put aside for use in the World Egg Throwing Championships.

About Me

Mo is a white miniature silky cockerel. He was hatched on the 27th February 2005 in Sheffield. He moved south shortly afterwards and now resides in 2 story coop in Swaton at WETF headquarters. He has 8 wifes and 1 girl friend.